


Camp TentSet

by Phaserburn



Series: Camp TentSet [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Banter, Canon Gay Character, Coming Out, Fluff, Gay Romance, Happy Ending, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Sober Roxy Lalonde
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 09:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phaserburn/pseuds/Phaserburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome to Camp TentSet, where the Texan sun is hot, the water is lukewarm, and the campers are all rambunctious "trolls."</p>
<p>We've experienced some staffing changes recently...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

                Dirk paced back and forth at the front of the cabin, yelling every word with the volume and strength of a stern drill sergeant. 

                “Okay ankle biters.  My name is Dirk Strider.  If you’re listening to me, it means your parents have signed you up to be a camper here and we’re stuck together in Cabin Krypton for the next week.  My job is to make sure you get the full three month summer camp experience, crammed into one tiny week, so that they won’t feel bad about letting you lounge on your behinds for the next three months.  I, for one, do not plan on disappointing them. 

                For the next week you will be hiking up mountainsides, swimming across lakes, crafting, eating, shooting arrows across fields into targets, and riding horses.  On my watch, you will read, categorize, field guide, eat, and sleep like a true, TentSet Camper or my name is not Dirk Strider.  So prepare to camp like you’ve never camped before.  Now, are you ready soldiers!”

                Dirk punctuated the last sentence by snapping his feet together like a soldier in parade and facing his “troops,” which elicited a pained yell from one child, who immediately set about protesting the loud noise.  A fuzzy, quiet boy named Kurloz was slowly petting a loud screaming child in a helmet trying to tear the eyes out of a smirk greaser costumed lad, while the last, sole sane boy sat uncomfortable while he was snuggled by a kid with a smile like a piranha.

                He sighed.  At least these ones, he thought, were still in line.


	2. That Day

                Dirk watched his kids shuffle towards the boathouse with his breath struggling to burst from his lungs.  When he finally exhaled, he felt three hours of stress burst from him in hot stream, as he turned about face and strolled back to the faculty longue in the office.

                Although the roads were abandoned, he could hear the echoing sounds of chaos from every angle as the other counselors worked to keep kids in line or cure homesickness or answer the hundredth question (in his case, usually about his shades).  The camp was small: there were only three other counselors beside himself and less than 30 campers.  Sessions only lasted a week this early in the summer after all.

                That last thought brought another sigh out of him.

                Pushing open the door of the faculty longue, he strolled over to the fridge where they kept the real food and grabbed a chocolate chip cookie while pouring himself a glass of apple juice.  Technically, the bottle belonged to the music instructor, but it was share and share alike as far as he cared.

                After downing the glass as quickly as his dehydrated body would allow he took a bite out of the cookie.  Bad decision.  The apple and chocolate flavors mixed terribly in his mouth and he ended up coughing up chunks of dough into his hand.

                “I’ll say, are you alright chap?”

                Dirk looked up.  Sitting at one of the tables in the corner was a guy his age, short and skinny but athletic from the waist down and with a completely even tan so deep he’d assume it was skin tone if the guy didn’t sound so painstakingly Caucasian.   He was sitting comfortably established in his chair and Dirk hadn’t heard the door open.  Somehow Dirk hadn’t noticed he wasn’t alone.

                The stranger had seen the entire thing.

                As smoothly as he could, Dirk closed his hand around the chunks of moist chocolate cookie and moved his fist to his sides.  When he tried to speak, a suppressed cough interrupted him.  “Y… yeah man.  Got a little too excited about my cider.  Drank it too fast and the Granny Smith decided to punch out my windpipe.  You know the business.  What’s up with you?”

                The guy immediately switched expressions, like a puppy, from concerned to excitedly friendly.  “Oh nothing much.  Taking a moment to catch up on current events before heading out for another round through the safety guidelines with another set of whippersnappers.”  He lifted the newspaper he was reading up for Dirk to see.  It was folded twice, once down the spine and again at the center, something Dirk vaguely remembered his father’s father doing.   “Sorry.  I don’t exactly remember seeing you before?” the stranger continued, “Have we been properly introduced yet?”

                “Nah, man, I’m pretty sure I’d remember a mug like yours.”  Was that a compliment?  Dirk felt like he was giving a compliment at first but the second he said it sounded like an insult.  Should he say something else?  He had thought about whether it was a compliment or not for so long it would be awkward now to say anything else and the guy was getting up now so it was too late anyways.

                At first he looked like he was wearing a white t-shirt, but when he stood up Dirk could see that the entire thing was one half of a giant skull design, with several giant inky black marks to designate the eyes and nose and mouth.  It was covered in patches of grey dirt Jake had collected while getting a hang of the roads nearby.  His shorts were covered too; or, at least, what there was of his shorts.

                “Pleased as punch to make your acquaintance then.  The names Jake English, I’m the new Hiking Instructor.”

                That explained skinny looking strength, he thought, imaging Jake climbing over rocks, pulling himself over ledges of rock.  What would he wear to get a tan that even...?

                “Wait, Hiking Instructor?”  Dirk said “What happened to Jade?”  He felt a small piece of chocolate chip fall from the roof of his mouth onto his tongue when he spoke.  He hoped Jake didn’t see while he swallowed inconspicuously.

                “Oh, nothing happened to Ms. Harley.  She just decided to try her hand at counseling,” Jake explained.

                “So then what happened to the other girls counselor, Molly?”

                “Who?”

                Dirk shook his head.  “Forget it.  You wouldn’t know her anyways.  Besides, it’s not like I’m that surprised.  She never did exactly ‘fit in’ here; you know what I’m saying?  Like, we got along fine and all but she just didn’t quite seem to fit in with our picture.  Doesn’t surprise me the least that she flew the coop, got in with a group of birds of prey somewhere.  Learning to live off the land.  That’s more her style–”

                Jake was stared slightly furrowed until Dirk felt his voice trail off, then they stood in silence again.

                “So – what should I call you by then new chap?”

                “Dirk.  Dirk Strider.  Counselor.”

                “Ah, yes, three down and one more to go.  I’ve already gone through meetings with the other instructors and my bosses, and now I’ve serendipped my way into an introduction with nearly the entire rest of the staff, one more lad aside.”

                “You mean John?”

                His eyes grew wider.  “If that’s the other men’s counselor, then yes, the one and only.”

                “Oh, he generally keeps out of the faculty lounge.  If you want to meet him, I’d suggest pacing around the library when Rose is busy.  He’ll show up eventually.”

                “Righto.  Thanks for the tip Amigo.”  Jake extended his right hand for a handshake, and Dirk felt his own twitch momentarily in response before he remembered the googy cookie re-batter he was holding.  He immediately locked that hand at his side and extended his left hand instead.

                The two of them stood there lopsided until Jake slowly lifted his left hand as well and shook Dirk with both of his hands clapped together. 

                “It was great to meet you,” Jake said, and he turned around towards his table, grabbed his paper and headed right back out the door.

                As quickly as he could, Dirk spun around, dumped and shook the cookie from his stiff hand and washed away the remains in the sink.  He half remembered standing silent as Jake said goodbye but he decided against running after him to rectify the mistake (what he decided was one of his better decisions that day).  When he turned around, he realized the room still smelled vaguely of the earthy ghost someone carries after spending an entire day outside.  He could feel a slight tingling in his left hand, surrounding him to the edges where Jakes hand had left their mark, so distinct he could almost trace their edges with his finger.

                “Oh fuck no.”


	3. Later That Day

                Roxy held the door of the mess hall open, ushering the last two kids out the door before sighing and locking the doors.  The perky curls of her blonde hair were sticking to her forehead and neck from sweat and the camp didn’t have a counselor shirt in her size or the time to order a new one, so hers was tied with a rubber band in the back to meet her waistline.  She was thoroughly happy though, with the all-encompassing thorough joy that comes being tired to your bones doing something you love.

                “Coast is clear,” she called back to the kitchen, “Verbal baggage prepared for unboarding. Your clear to be land Dork.”

                In the other room, Dirk set down his broom and starting counting off words with his fingers.  “Shit.  Dick.  Fucker.  Fucker.  Motherfucker.  Fly as shit.”

                Roxy replied, “Shit. Fuck.  Bourbon.  Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.  Crap.”

                “Damn Rox, you need to add some variety into your salad bar.”

                It was a game they played.  Keep track of whatever curse words you wanted to say throughout the day but had to censor yourself in front of the kids and report back whenever they were alone.

                If they were going to get a summer job together, they had to find a way to make it their own.

                “Wait a second.  You don’t say crap around the kids?” Dirk asked.

                “No, of course not.”

                “… well crap.”

                Roxy giggled, pushing past him to grab the broom he set down and finish his job.  Dirk walked over and stacked dishes.

                “So, how are your kids Dork?” Roxy asked.

                “There’s a kid named Kankri who legitimately threatened to call CPS if I break ten decibels in his presence and Mituna is pretty much Evil Kenevil’s long lost twin nephew, but whatever.  Oh, and one of my campers, the one who likes horses, is as straight as a Rams horn and in full yaoi love with an Otaku.”

                “There’s always one who likes horses,” Roxy nodded sympathetically, “So you have a lot in common, eh?”

                “Quiet,” Dirk scolded, “We’ve had this discussion before and it ain’t going to come up again.”

                “Fine.  But I’ll coax this out of you yet Dork Strider, if it’s the last thing I do.”

                “What are your kids like then,” Dirk said, sticking the previous subject under the resounding cling of two stacked glasses.

                Roxy shrugged.  “One likes to stab things and another looks like she would watch, but I stuck them on the same bunk bed at the far end of the cabin, so I should be safe.  Plus, there are these two girls who are completely adorable.  I think I can turn Meulin into my little Art’s and Crafts assistant.”

                “Do it.”

                “It’s nothing like what Molly had to put up with.”

                “Is that why she left?” Dirk asked.

                “Technically, but I think there was more too it, you know?  She just… never really fit in with the group.  She just seemed like she belonged somewhere else.”

                “That’s exactly what I thought.”  Dirk finished setting out the glasses and put the trays back in the kitchen.  Moments later, Roxy followed setting the broom up in the closet there.

                “So,” Roxy repeated, “make any new friends.”

                “With who.  My kids aren’t exactly my kind of bromego if that’s what you’re wondering.”

                “Not the kids you bozo.  The staff.”

                The smell of road dust immediately filled Dirks nostrils.  “Who exactly?”

                “The new Hiking instructor is dreamy, don’t you think?”

                “He’s okay, I guess.”

                “Okay.  If he wasn’t the ‘Fly as Shit’ you were referring to earlier, I don’t know what your tastes are anymore.”

                “Guess you don’t know my tastes then.”

                “Please, I know you better than a cherry lollipop,” Roxy teased.

                “That sounds uncomfortably sexual to me-”

                Roxy hushed him, pushing a single finger against his lips.  “Just let it happen.  You will be loved Dirk.  You will be loooved.”

                “Thanks Roxslide,” Dirk mumbled against her finger.

                “You’re welcome,” she replied, without moving, “Are you ready for your campers to come back from recess?”

                “Nope.”

                “Too bad.”  Finally moving her finger she walked towards the door, “I’m going to intercept Janey before she starts rallying the kitchen for dinner.  Ttyl Dork.”


	4. The Next Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter was partially inspired by [TheSunMaid's Camp Skaia](http://campskaia.tumblr.com/post/50174217377/thenewfrendgeromy-thesunmaid-campskaia).  
> 

                Dirk held his shirt as far away from his chest as he could stretch it with his fingers, trying to ignore the wetness already soaked through to his chest. 

                He hadn’t listened when Mituna had protested getting on the horse, which meant he was placing the squirming kid at the perfect height to arc-vomit directly on Dirk’s shirt.  The good news was that once that was out of his system, Mituna immediately got over his fear and took off galloping and manically laughing to the other side of the enclosure, where he began verbally coaxing his horse to jump over the fence to freedom.  The bad news was Dirk had to leave his campers with the instructor during his favorite activity to clean up.

                He didn’t even bother grabbing a new shirt and risk dripping on the floor of his cabin, he just went straight for the abandoned community showers.  Squeamishly, he pulled the shirt over his head, careful to keep the vomit off his clenched face while the smell of rotten acid burned through his nose.  He threw it to the corner like a deflated animal skin, aimed a shower head at it and fired.  Brown haze drifted from the shirt and to the drain.  He gagged. 

                Riding the wave of cleanliness, he shucked aside his shorts and hung them outside next to a red and white towel he decided to steal, and went to his favorite shower head to clean off.

 ------------------------------

                The assistant directors office was a cluttered mess of globes, books, compasses, finger paints and toys from the dollar store.  There were almanacs stacked on shelves of field guides, gods eyes made from every color in the light spectrum (the kids there seemed very invested in their respective favorite colors), and horse statuettes waiting in stables crafted from stacked bundles of popsicle sticks.  Off in the corner was a closet were one would find the wigs the assistant director wore in private, with multiple colors and styles, as well as stage makeup.   Currently she was without her day wig, pouring over a desk of papers after running around the camp all morning following Karkat’s instructions. 

                It’s a tiring job, and a seasonal one, but it satisfied her.

                Roxy knocked at the office door.  She heard shuffling from inside as Calliope scrambled to fit her day-to-day wig back on.

                “One minute,” Callie called, checking the mirror once to ensure it was even before calling again, “Come in.”

                There was enough empty floor for Roxy to open the door ninety degrees, but after then the door came lightly against a stack of books.  She walked casually through the established pathways to a chair near the desk.

                “Hey Callie, how’s work treating ya’?”

                “It’s going over well.  Karkat wants me to organize all the children’s food allergies by cabin and flavor before suppertime, so I’m hoping right to that.”

                For emphasis, she picked up the stack of papers and straightened them into a neater pile, making them fully stand out against the cluttered rest of the room.

                “I see, I see.  How is our screamer leader then?  Off his rocker still as I’d assume?” Roxy asked.

                “You haven’t encountered him today?” Calliope asked.

                “Nah.   He just left handwritten instructions above the ceilings of all the staff’s beds.”

                “Oh, I had figured that was only for myself,” Calliope exclaimed, “It was pretty clever though.   Someplace we’d all look sometime before waking up.  And large print-” 

                “You’re falling down on the job Callie,” Roxy scolded.

                “What?  How so?” Calliope checked the stack of papers beneath her for elbow smudge marks.

                “I set you up for the perfect Karkat sex joke,” Roxy scolded, “You were supposed to say, _actually I think he’s on his rocker right now_.  Because he’s totally banging the music instructors taut drum.”

                Roxy winked conspiratorially.  “Or better yet,” she continued, “ _Karkat’s screaming all right, but it’s not what you’d think_.”

                Calliope pretended to ignore her.  “You know it’s not my place to speculate on my bosses sexual dealings, and neither is it yours.”

                “Come on Callie.  What summer camp has a music instructor?  Really?”

                “Ours, that’s which,” Calliope said, with an air of finality (and an unintended and unavoidable smirk).  “Anywho, did you have a question for me or are we just here to visit.”

                Roxy pulled her chair closer to the desk and grabbed some of the papers from Calliopes stack.  “Just a visit,” she said, airy and light, and she began to search through them as well.

 ------------------------------

                Dirk could barely hear the sound of whistling over the water rushing past his ears and pounding against the worn tile.  By the time he realized someone was passing by, the door had already been opened and a blissfully unaware Jake was strolling into the showers.

_Shit_ , Dirk thought.  He looked across the room at his soaking shirt.  _Should I run or should I stay_ , he thought.  _Should I run or should I-._

                Too late.  Jake had already turned the corner and wandered into the showers.  He hadn’t expected anyone to be in there, so he recoiled when he felt the spray of the corner showerhead wet his clothes.

                “Bugger Juice.”  Retreating back to dry floor, he looked over at the mostly likely clean but definitely still impure counselors shirt on the ground and then looked to its owner, who was cautiously retreating further towards the wall while twisting like a rubik’s cube to decide which part of his body to hide: his crotch or his butt.  Whichever was more attracted at to Jake at the moment.

                “Oh, it’s just you Dirk.  I didn’t expect anyone else to be here.”

                Had he accidentally pressed up against the handle?  Dirk could feel the water getting warmer as each moment passed.

                Jake wandered over to the clothes rack and hung his towel, a green and gray tattered mess covered with skulls he had scribbled on with a sharpie.  He stripped while he talked, lifting the dusty shirt off by stretching the neck over his entire head and pulling upward from the shoulders.  His torso was evenly tanned past the edge of his shorts, an image that inspired many uncomfortable thoughts in Dirk, who instantly decided he needed to face the wall.

                “Karkat keeps our schedules so off kilter,” Jake continued, “I rarely see anyone milling about during my breaks.  Fancy that we’d both decide to take a trip to the bath for ours.”

_There is no cover_ , Dirk repeated to himself.  _There is no God.  There is no peace.  There is no refuge_.  He turned away and faced the wall in front of him, trying to think of England instead of English.

                Jake reached forward to unlace his shoes, pulling them off with both hands while bouncing on one foot.  He pulled his socks off toes first and shoved them in his shoes.

                “So how was your activity in the Saddlery?” Jake asked.

                Standing up straight again, Jake undid the button of his shorts and unzipped, a sound which echoed against the wall nearly pressed up against Dirks ear and ricocheted against his brain.  He could nearly feel the tiny fabric sliding down his own body.  Would Jake be the kind to remove his shorts and his shorts all at once, or would he still be wearing some form of boxers or brief if Dirk snuck a peak.  Did Jake even wear underwear?  The thought sent an uncomfortable pulse below.

                Jake ended with a question, but he continued talking without getting an answer, slipping over to shower head nearest to Dirk.  Of course, through all his blathering and vaguely British slang, all Dirk could see was the movement of Jakes body nearing his.  The water turned on, and he could feel the splashing water double, off the boy and onto him.

                “–Bingo Boingo–” said Jake.

                And boom Dirk had a crash landed in the abandoned ghost town of Boner city, without snacks, cell phone, or car to get him the hell out of dodge. 

                In a moment the monologue debating and romanticizing the sweat off Jakes body instantly shut down and his body rebooted in full fight or flight mode.  He had two options.  The first was to punch Jake as hard as he could in the head and hope he could erase any memory of the entire event.  Instead, to protect that perfect face, he ran, purposefully arcing around the room like some overly complicated, video game dodge to keep his front facing away from Jake.  He grabbed his shorts and shoes and disappeared out the door with Dave’s towel wrapped around his side.


	5. That Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene partially brought to you by [this picture](http://thesunmaid.tumblr.com/post/60487649011/dirky-he-didnt-see-your-no-he-didnt-or-at).
> 
> Thank you for your time.

                Roxy shivered from a sudden frozen wind as she shut the door of her cabin, causing her to close the door louder than she would have liked.  It was only a small noise, miniscule, but it still caused her to pause outside of the door, waiting for the sound of an awakened Damera striking matches with the floorboards.

                After a minute she pushed her worries out of her mind and set out towards the mess hall.

                When she arrived, the door was open.  The lights were off, but Roxy could see a small light slipping from the kitchen, which a constant shadow kept cutting in front of as it paced back and forth.  When Roxy stepped onto the wood paneling, the shadow paused and went backwards, never to be seen again.

                Dirk Strider was sitting on the tile of the kitchen when Roxy found him, hugging his legs to his chest.  He had laid a flashlight on the tile so it illuminated the wall in front of him, like he was setting the stage for a shadow puppeteer.

                “Dirk.  Are you okay?”

                He nodded weakly.  “Thanks for coming down here.”

                “What do you need?” she asked.  When she sat down, he shook his head and stood abruptly to pace.  Despite her interest, Roxy could feel her eyelids pulling downward in a sudden surge of gravity.  She had an early morning hike that day, and she had looked forward to a long and easy sleep that night before she found the note Dirk had slipped under her covers.

                She lay back on the ground and watched him pace, her lazy eyes following like a cats.

                “Dirk if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t help you.”

                Dirk stopped and exhaled deep enough to create a breeze.  When he felt his courage return, he sat down, crossed legged.

                “Promise you won’t tell a soul...”

                “Cross my heart,” she said, and she crossed dramatically across her entire chest before stabbing a finger into her rib and ‘dying’ in a heap.  This late at night Roxy tended to get a bit silly and sleep deprived.

                “Come on Dorky.  You can trust me.  I gotch yo’r back.”

                “You don’t seem all that concerned anymore,” Dirk pouted.  At least, he sounded how Roxy imagined a pouty Texan would sound, drawling and quiet but indignant.

                “I still am.  I swear.”

                Dirk exhaled again, intriguing Roxy enough to sit up again, cross legged to mirror him.

                “Okay.  Well… the first thing is… I got to clear this out the way or else everything else isn’t going to make a lick of sense… although you already guessed a while ago, and I’ve just been putting off saying it anyways,” Dirk spat out the last words as quickly as he could, like it was one of their rampant flies that had landed on his tongue.  “I’m… Gay.”

                In his mind, the last words were gun fire, and his brain was the barrel, bouncing back from the explosion.

                Roxy was less impressed.

                “Dirk, I’ve been telling you that for ages.  What are you smoking?”

                “Shut up Roxy.”

                “No seriously dude.  You kept me up until,” she looked over at the shadowy analog clock in the corner and then immediately gave up and looked at her wrist.  She didn’t have a watch on.  “Really late to tell me that you like dudes.  I know Dork.  I know.”

                “I knew you wouldn’t get it.”  And he started for the door, until she grabbed him by the wrist and stopped him.  There wasn’t a tug backwards or a pull away, but she grabbed his wrist and he stopped moving.

                “Get what Dirk.  I’m supporting you.”

                “I want you to recognize that this is a big deal for me.”

                They stared at each other, each trying to understand the other without recognizing that they were wrong.  In the reflecting light of the flashlight Roxy swore for a moment that she could see a glisten, a wetness, under Dirks shades.  But in a minute he reached to push up his bangs and it was gone.

                “Okay Dirk.  You’re right.”  She let go, and sat up straighter, now fully awake.  “I’m sorry.”

                Dirk stared.   He was chuckling slightly but he couldn’t tell why.   He felt loose, shifting uncomfortably back and forth in his own skin.  He felt smaller than his silhouette.   When he sat down again, he couldn’t help squirming.

                “So what made you decide to go all ‘Beautiful Thing’ on me?” Roxy asked.

                “I’m going to guess that’s a gay joke and ignore you.”  But he chuckled.  They were in sync again, the greatest wall of the night torn down.

                “You guessed correctly.  But you still have to answer the question.  Why tonight?”

                Dirk stuttered, trying to find his words.  Roxy prepared for another revelation.

                “So at Horseback riding today, I was helping a camper get–”

                “Mituna puking on you made you gay?” Roxy interrupted.

                “What?  How did you know that?”

                Roxy shrugged.  “Equius told a few people and it’s been passed around the staff.  I’m pretty sure John told me first.”

                Dirk’s cheeks turned as red and hot as a sunburn.

                “What about it anyways?” she asked.

                “Oh, well, afterwards, I had to go shower off the… vomit.  And while I was in there, Jake kinda–”

                Suddenly, she jolted forward onto her hands and knees.

                “Dirk.  Are you telling me you saw Jake English Breakfast’s Tea Bags?”

                Dirk nodded.  “He was naked Rox!  Like those shorts aren’t enough.”

                “Oh my God.  Dirky, was his butt as great as I imagined?”

                “Uh, it was okay I guess…” He was almost whispering, like Jake was hidden behind the corner ready to jump out any minute.

                “Just okay?!”

                “It was pretty great.”

                Roxy fell backwards.  “Oh, it’s not fair.  Cute boys never stumble into the girls shower.”

                “Trust me.  It ain’t as fun as you’re imagining it to be.  It’s pretty stressful actually.”

                “So you chatted up Jake in the shower?”

                “Well, he chatted.”

                “Oh no,” Roxy exclaimed.

                “What?”

                “Please tell me Dirk.  I need to hear you say that you didn’t just stand there and ignore him.  Please.”

                “Of course not.”

                “Did you talk to him then?”

                Dirk was silent, knowing he’d been caught.

                “Then what did you do.”

                “I ran out,” he muttered, “I had a crash landing in the abandoned ghost town of Boner city, without provisions, cell phone, or car to get me the hell out of dodge.  I could either punch him as hard as I could and erase his memory or protect his perfect face and run out before he could see my running motor.”

                She shook her head.  “You’re going to need a lot of help man.  A lot of help.”

                “Don’t you dare try planning anything Roxy.  I don’t want you playing matchmaker.”

                “Fine.  Fine,” Roxy held her hands up defensively, “but you’re missing out on some high quality assistance here.  Pro Bono too.”

                “I’ll keep that in mind.”

                “I have one more question though,” Roxy said.  Dirk waited silently for her to go on.  “Why did it take you so long to admit it Dirk.  You knew I would accept you, right?”

                Dirk felt his heart sink.  “No, it’s not that.”

                Roxy went on.  “It’s not like we haven’t talked about this in private before?”

                “I don’t know.”

                She reached for his knee but accidentally hitting slightly higher and rubbing his thigh.  But it was still comforting, although he felt the touch far away from where he had sunk in his own body.  “You’re not ashamed or something, right Dirk?”

                “No-”

                “Because I will go through the entire Youtube playlist of ‘It Gets Better’ videos if I need to.  I’ve done this before–”

                “No, it ain’t like that at all.”

                “Then what is it like Dirk?” Roxy said.

                “It’s just,” Dirk said, pausing to search for a comfortable place within his own body, where he felt most center, “would you want to admit that your dating pool was suddenly one tenth as large.  I mean, it’s not easy as it is.”

                In a moment, Roxy had launched herself over him, pressing her face against his bony chest, “Oh… Dirky.  You know that’s not true.  Tons of people think you’re hunky.  You just don’t realize it.”

                “Maybe,” Dirk said.

                “No,” Roxy struggled to speak, but she kept her face against dirks chest, so he could feel each movement of her jaw.  “I know I’m not saying it well right now, because I’m tired and stupid and yada yada yada, but it’s true.  People love you Dirk.  And if nothing else, I love you Dirk.”

                Dirk chuckled again and pet the blonde curls of the girl still clinging to his chest.  He felt himself expanding, by not paying attention to how small he had felt.

                Roxy had said it before.  Roxy had said it plenty of times with plenty of people, but in the seriousness of the moment, that “I love you” had felt poetic. Golden.

                “You ain’t stupid Roxy.  You’re my best friend.”

                “And you’re mine Dork.”

                Dirk chuckled again.  “I love you too Roxy.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Names for Jake English's Gentials:  
> • The British Isles  
> • Twin M9 Bare-ttas  
> • Pistol Barrel  
> • Skull and Bones  
> • Temple Treasures
> 
> If you come up with your own Jake English Genitalia Euphemisms, send them to me at phaserburn.tumblr.com  
> 


	6. The Next Day

                In the late afternoon, Dirk walked his collection of misfits down to the boathouse with one attached to his chest like a baby monkey. Kankri had forgotten his sandals at home and he refused to bring his shoes somewhere they might get stolen, or worse, wet.

                “A tetanus shot doesn’t protect you against parasites. If I cut my foot on a rock which had been exposed to animal feces, I could develop a serious infestation, and a suspension from further camp activities would be the least of my issues-”

                “I know Kankri,” Dirk answered, “I know. We’re almost there.”

                “I don’t want to swim with him nearby,” Mituna screamed while riding on Kurloz’s shoulders. He pointed at Cronus.

                “Hey, what’s the problem with a dip with me?” Cronus sulked. He tended to walk just a pace or two behind Dirk.

                “I don’t want him seeing me shirtless,” Mituna said.

                “Then keep your shirt on,” Dirk suggested.

                “Holy Fuck yes.”

                “Hey,” Dirk scolded, “Language. Don’t say the ‘F’ word.”

                “Holy yes?”

                “Better.”

                The swimming instructor always met with campers inside the boathouse she shared with the boating instructor. The boathouse was old and small but they managed to share the space pretty well. When the swimming instructor, Feferi, needed more dry space, she and the boating instructor put boards between the docks and turned it into a stroke practice platform and a dive station, and since the boat captain, Eridan, hated getting in the water, she would take care of most of the pushing when they need to haul boats up for repairs. 

                Dirk knocked on the back door but no one answered.

                “Do we just jump in?” Mituna asked.

                “Stay perched where you are Mituna.”

                “Where I come from, if the teacher is 10 minutes late we get a free period,” Cronus said, “Can we blow this popsicle stand if the broad doesn’t show?”

                “Don’t say ‘broad’, Cronus,” Dirk answered, and he led them around to the other side of the building. There wasn’t much room to walk that close to the water, but Dirk could see that the double doors leading out to the water were wide open. None of the boats were in the dock and Feferi was nowhere to be seen.

                “Well that’s just great,” Dirk mumbled, Kankri feeling heavier than ever.

                “Do we really get a free period?” Rufioh asked.

                Just as he was about to answer, he heard someone shout his name from the camp. Heading their way was a boy in a workout shirt with a skull design drawn on it DIY style with green ink, like an alien dissection, and a pair of athletic dolphin shorts. Short Dolphin shorts. Jake was a walking omen of a fabric shortage.

                If Dirk couldn’t tell Jake was in good shape by looking at him, he knew when Jake wasn’t the slightest bit out of breath after jogging over there.

                “I sleuthed I would find you here,” he said, “There’s been a change of plans and Feferi’s been sent into town.”

                “Oh… thanks.”

                “So you and your kids are with me for a late afternoon hike,” he said with an unassuming smile, “I got the memo from Karkat this morning.”

                “Oh,” Dirk said. “Oh.” He buffered until Kankri gave him a gentle tug on the ear.

                “Mr. Dirk. We need to go get my shoes.”

 ------------------------------

                “Keep up Mr. Strider. Not much left to go,” Jake called from the front of the pack. From behind there was a grumbling as the group continued climbing uphill.

                Dirk huffed and heaved. Back in Austin he wasn’t unathletic per say, but he wasn’t used to moving himself for more than 10 minutes on foot; he always drove or rode his skateboard or rode a horse. But he pushed himself ahead despite the burning rebellion in his limbs to catch up to their fearless leader at the head of the pack, who trudged along like a mountain goat lithely skipping from one settled patch of ground to another.

                “Hey Jake.”

                “Yes sir?” he responded.

                “How much longer do you think this is going to take, bro? You’re halfway to Alabama, I’m half cooked, and we’re all late.”

                Jake looked straight ahead with a calculating expression. Dirk’s internal compass told him they weren’t heading towards the camp, which did nothing to comfort him. “Not much longer. A good twenty minutes if we keep the pace upward and trudge along. Why the worry?”

                “Nothing really…,” he said, “we’re just, late. Like I said.”

                “Oh, that’s nonsense. . The bugle’s just a formality. We can arrive anytime we choose.”

                Dirk fell back and looked towards the west and the low crest of the sun behind the mountains that were hiding their camp, and trudged along.

                Kankri figuratively bit at Dirks ankle. “Mr. Dirk, may I ask you a personal question regarding your relationship with Mr. Jake?”

                “Shoot Kankri,” Dirk said, trying to swallow his spit with a dry mouth.

                “Why does he call you Mr. Strider? Aren’t you coworkers?”

                “I dunno kid. Why do you call me Mr. Dirk?”

                “Individuals my age are expected to submit to power dynamics in accordance with ageism and dominant power structures codified through respect. By referring to yourself and other members of the staff as Mr. Dirk and Mr. Jake or Mrs. Harley, I can show my respect of your services towards me as minimally compensated caretakers while still subverting the power structures associated with the gesture by juxtaposing the formal Mr., Mrs., or Xr. with a given name rather than a surname-” 

                Kankri took a deep breath, like he was about to dive underwater and Dirk too the opportunity to speak up. “That’s nice Kankri. Keep up the good work.”

                With a dignified huff, Kankri turned his attention to the ground.

                “Hey, Horuss,” Cronus yelled from behind, “how are you keeping up?”

                “Decently,” he stuttered. He stood with both feet on the ground most of the time, bringing his feet together at every opportunity. Just ahead of him, Rufioh jumped from rock to rock.

                “You look a little wet under there, buddy,” Cronus called, “maybe you should take your shirt off. You’d cool off faster.”

                “I don’t think that’s-”

                “Cronus,” Dirk snapped.

                “What! I was just trying to conversate privately with my buddy Horuss.”

                “Don’t say Horuss either Cronus,” Dirk said, “You make it sound like a dirty word.”

                Dirk could hear Cronus slink a little further back, as Kankri mumbled a few words to him about the importance of word choice.

                “Destination Ahoy,” Jake shouted, prompting the campers with energy to burst ahead.

                Out of nowhere the mountain reached a peak, and disappeared back down at a gentle slope. From there they could see the stretches of hill, dotted with brush, sweep down for miles towards ocean. Behind them the sun had not yet set, but was teasing its way along the horizon, and as such it cast beautiful colors that stretched across the ocean and darkened into a deep blue that matched the glittering sea.

                “The last instructor definitely didn’t take out us here this late.” 

                Jake turned in surprise, his hand in salute against his forehead. “Really? It’s a stunning view.”

                “Yeah, it is,” he agreed.

                “If you’d ask me, this was taken straight out of a Ghibli film,” Jake said, amending, “albeit, the grass here could use a bit of a touch up.”

                Dirk twisted his head so fast he felt something tweak. “You know about Studio Ghibli?”

                “Of course,” Jake said, “they produce some of the best animated flicks I’ve seen to date.”

                “So… you just like it as an animated film?”

                “Well, a film, yes.”

                “I mean, do you like any other Anime?”

                “Sure,” he said, “I love the genre.”

                “But, what kind of Anime are you talking about?” Out of nowhere, Rufioh appeared, the middle school rebellious red streak in his hair suddenly taking a whole new meaning. “Because, like, there are the kind who watched Sailor Moon reruns as a kid and vaguely know Japan is an island, and then there are the people who stay up all night to memorize lines from Evangelion?” 

                “Oh. Well, I’ve definitely spent my fair share of time in front of my computer screening a series.”

                “Can you remember any names?” he asked. Dirk subconsciously moved slightly closer to Jake to offset Rufioh’s gradual approach.

                “Oh, I’m not a great show when put on the spot like this. Umm. Kill la Kill was the last one I saw. Oh, and I especially liked Spice and Wolf.”

                “You’ve seen Kill la Kill!” Dirk and Rufioh yelled, then looked at each other uncomfortably.

                “Oh I loved it. I couldn’t tell you what I’d do for one of their uniforms.”

                Dirk imagined Jake in a male version of their uniforms and had to shake his head out.

                “We can talk about it more later, if you’d like?” Jake said.

                “Definitely!” Rufioh said, eliciting a little laugh from Jake. But Jake also looked up at Dirk, knowingly, as if to say ‘kid’s right? But I was talking to you.’

                “We should probably start heading back,” Jake said, gesturing back to camp. Dirk nodded, and Rufioh, with as much energy as ever, lead the way with Jake talking about the executives at Funimation.

                Every so often, Jake would nod big over his shoulder at Dirk, and Dirk was glad he was wearing his shades so no one could see how wide his eyes would get.


	7. Meanwhile

                Roxy swing her legs outward, spinning the office chair like a top and watching the cluttered room blur around her.  At her desk, Calliope in a blue suit and a blonde wig to match Roxy’s watched, confusion nipping away at various portions of her brain.

                “So, if I may clarify.  You need my help getting two of our staff members into a relationship…”

                “Uh huh,” Roxy said.

                “Romantically…”

                “Right on.”

                “And you can’t tell me who these people are…”

                “Check that box on the survey.”

                “Because you’ve been sworn into secrecy.”

                “Bingo Boingo.”  Her chair lost steam slowly, and she slumped over to stare at Calliope, her cheeks in her hands.  “Any ideas?”

                “No, no,” Calliope said, “I’m not done yet.”

                “Oh.  Excuse me.  Go on then.”

                “You’ve been sworn into secrecy by the crush holder.  I understand that.  But why can’t you tell me the target of these affections?”

                “Because, my observant little friend, this crush is so obvious that if I told you who it was for, you’d be able to sniff out the crush holder faster than we went through pasta on macaroni necklace night.”

                “Should I order more?” Calliope asked, pulling her clipboard form beneath a stack of papers.

                “Please and thank.”

                Calliope nodded and made a note to herself to make sure the order arrived before Jane got to her spaghetti dinner.  “Well I’m not really sure how I could help you.”

                “You’re not sure yet,” Roxy clarified, “but that’s why we’re here.  To brainstorm.  I was thinking something along the line of a faculty dance.  Or maybe even a dance with all the kids and only two chaperones.  The music gets pumping.  They get bored.  There are only two adults around.  Next thing you know WHAM.  Bump and grind, and two of the campers have to yell at them to dance an arm’s length away from each other because it’s inappropriate.”

                Calliope shook her head.  “It wouldn’t work.  It’s too public.  If this… whoever is nervous enough to swear you into secrecy, they won’t be so bold in person.”

                “True, true,” Roxy thought.  Now that she thought of it, she couldn’t really picture Dirk as dirty dancing at all.  Maybe some weird, pop and lock move, but not much else.  “See this is why I need you Callie.  You think of those things.  So it needs to be something personal?”

                “Private,” Calliope clarified, “Although personal never hurt anyone.”

                “True, true.  I supposed faking someone’s death is out of the question.”

                “Yes.  Or injury.  If Karkat finds out-”

                “Sigh,” Roxy said, “Forget it.  We’ll come up with something later.”  She stood up from her chair and tilted her head, like an artist staring at a canvas.  “Want me to do your hair before dinner?”

                Calliope lit up like a window at dawn.  “Yes.  Let’s.”

                Roxy walked around behind her desk, carefully avoiding the shipment of mason jars pilled in the corner, and began neatening the wig, careful not to tug too hard and adjust the wig to the center of Calliope’s head when it was pulled off.

                Roxy had been hesitant to do this at first, knowing that she was inevitably shortening the life of the wig, but Callie had been more than receptive to the offer.

                Roxy knew how to braid hair into bows or loop them into rings, and this wouldn’t be the first time Callie walked out of the office in a tailored suit and a French twist. 

                “Anything you have in mind in particular?” Roxy asked.

                Calliope shrugged.  “Oh anything you have in mind.  You’re the expert.”

                “Yeah, but it’s your hair Callie,” Roxy clarified.  She did have something in mind though, so she pulled aside a few locks of hair and began twirling them around her finger.  “If you have any complaints, feel free to speak up anytime.”

                When she was done, they walked to the bathroom mirror.

                Calliope’s hair had been braided around itself, a golden crown around her head that covered the wig cap perfectly.  She stared in the bathroom mirror, gently feeling the plastic hair like it was made of burnt paper ash.

                Roxy hovered behind, smiling like she was hiding a cookie in her cheeks.  “Like it?”

                “I love it.”

                “Great.”  Roxy disappeared back into the office, and Calliope could hear paper and books being moved about.  She reappeared squeezing the office chair into the bathroom and in front of the mirror.

                “Now it’s my turn.”

                “Oh no,” Calliope said, stepping back, “I wouldn’t know how.”

                “Exactly.  I’m going to teach you.”  And she leaned over and pulled her by the arm behind the chair, her nerves centering into a smile.


	8. Eventually

                “Yo, Jake.  How’s it going?  You look great today.  How’s it going?  Before you answer, that, I just wanted to know if you wanted to watch a movie with me.  I have a DVD of ‘The Cat’s Return’.  I remember you said you had seen the Ghibli movies but not all of them and I guessed this was pretty obscure.  Enough.”  Dirk played with the clasp of the DVD case, opening and closing it with an echoing snap.  “I mean, maybe you’ve seen it.  You seem cool.  We can go to the office for some privacy…”

                He smiled wide and checked in bathroom mirror, before shaking his head and trying again, gentler, and then staring at himself straight lipped with his jaw clenched, the old fluorescent lights casting shadows from his jaw defining his face.

                “Fuck it,” he said.

                He was running out of time.  He had put his campers to bed an hour early to steal some time to prepare, and he still had to stand with one foot kicked up against the door to keep people out.  Someone had been knocking a lot earlier but they had left, so he estimated he had about 5 minutes before the janitor came to “fix” the lock.

                Carefully balancing, he twisted around to triple check the back of his hair, took a deep breath, and stepped outside.  The sore he had made biting his fingernail throbbed in the cold, inflating its importance.

                The staff bunks by the office were technically the same size as the camper’s bunks, but with fewer beds crammed inside there was a lot more open space.  The lights were on when Dirk arrived, and Dave, Rose and John were playing cards on a table they set up by the door.

                “John, what are you doing out of your campers cabins?” Dirk asked.

                “Winning!” John yelled.

Immediately Rose swept three of his poker chips to her side, saying “Go Fish.”

John slapped his cards face down on the table.  “Dammit Dave, this game is stupid.”

                “Go Fish: Professional Angling Edition isn’t a game John,” Dave said, “It’s my masterpiece.”

                “But it doesn’t make any sense.”

                “Rose seems to be getting it man.  Maybe you’re just not sophisticated enough to keep up with it.”

                “Actually,” Rose clarified, “this game truly doesn’t make any sense.  I’ve been improvising my turns for the past 20 minutes.”

                “See!” John yelled, “and she’s in the lead.”

                Dave leaned over and pulled a can of soda out of the cooler.  “We won’t know who’s in the lead until the final weigh in.  Rose may have freestyled her way into more sets that I have, but I got some heavy trout on my end.”

                John rolled his eyes and picked up his cards.  “Anyway, couldn’t I ask you the same thing Dirk?  What brings you here?”

                Dave pointed to an empty seat, no doubt reserved for Jade.  “Sit down Bro-sa Parks.  We can deal you in.”

                “Nah,” Dirk said, “You remember what happened last time.  I was just looking for English.  Seen him?”

                “Have you checked the entire Texan mountainside yet?” Rose asked.

                “That’s next on my list.”

                “Save yourself some time,” John said, his bunched up with fear and confusion over his cards, “Jane asked someone to help clean up after dinner and he volunteered.  He’s probably finishing up by now.”

                “Gotcha.”

                “Why are you off to see him?” Rose asked, hooking her eyebrow up.

                “No reason.”

                “Really?  It has nothing to do with the DVD in your hand?”

                “I’m a busy guy Rose.  Sometimes I have to do multiple things during one trip.”

                “Uh huh,” she said, and returned her attention to her cards, hiding a smirk behind the Jack of Hearts and his twin brothers, Spade and Club.

                “Anyway,” Dirk said, reaching out and taking the yet opened soda can from in front of Dave and opening it, “I’ll go check out the kitchen.”

                “Have fun.”

                “Tell Jane I said hello.”

                “That’s my fucking drink, Bro-seph Stalin.”

                Dirk ducked outside again, drinking the coke as quickly as he could before tossing the can in a recycling bin outside of the dining area.  He scanned the area for any sign of Jake, walking back to his cabin, trekking around the path, sitting and relaxing.  Compulsively he polished the DVD cover with his shirt, wiping away his fingerprints.

                When he didn’t see anything he sat down, and mumbled his speech to himself.  “Hey Jake.  You look good.  I was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie with me.  I have ‘The Cat Returns,’ and there’s a player in the office.  You like movies, right?”

                He tried to imagine Jake saying yes, and taking his hand excitedly and running to the office.  And he reimagined it again and again until it didn’t make him as nervous as it did at first.  He was almost there.

                And then, in the distance, he heard a laugh like Jake’s.

                Dirk stood up quickly, the sound of wood chips moving underneath his feet nearly drowning out Jake’s faint laughter, and ran to the other side of the building before he missed him.  At the other side, it was louder than ever.  There were no streetlamps behind the kitchen, so it was dark and he had to walk by memory.

                “Enough Ms. Crocker,” Jake laughed, “your confections have affected me enough.”

                There were two metal doors leading into the kitchen, slightly ajar.  Dirk got as close as possible and peered through, turning his head so that he scanned the building in selfish slivers of picture.  Jake and Jane struggled for a bit, Jane fighting to touch Jake’s face with something white and fluorescent in the moonlight; Vanilla Frosting from a cake nearby.

                “Demilitarize immediately,” Jake yelled. 

                “Never!”

                They bounded backwards, and when Dirk moved to watch them again the edges of his window met.  Cursing silently, he moved back again and just listened.

                “Darn you Jane Crocker.  Darn you an itchy pair of socks.”

                And they came to giggling again, Jake’s goofy chuckle and Jane’s trademark owl laugh.  The kind he heard whenever he snuck into the kitchen to steal cookies from the desert batch last year.

                They were quiet for a minute, as Jake licked a portion of frosting off his finger.  Dirk couldn’t see, but his mind patched together dozens of still images from the sounds he heard, that played like stop motion.  Like a strobe light.

                “Well, if I’m to be sugar coated at least it’s in the name of something delicious.”

                “Oh that’s nothing,” she said.  And then they were silent again, the two of them.  No more hooting or giggling, except for an occasional wet sound.  And Dirk couldn’t stop himself from seeing them, kissing in stop motion, and then worse in flashes when his mind chose to be especially cruel.  He had to remind himself he had just seen them, and they wouldn’t have had enough time to do anything more.  But he imagined them kissing still, and longer, until they were kissing in other places: the kitchen, the ground outside that Dirk choose to stare at, the office in front of the TV. 

                He pulled himself away from the door, not bothering to be quiet and started down the road again, the sore on his finger he had made throbbing in half time with his heart.


	9. Not Much Later

                Roxy’s phone buzzed underneath her pillow, waking her up.  When she pulled it out, her eyes were assaulted with the brilliant white light of the screen and her background, with a blue box in the center.

                Dirk: _Can we talk._

She wrote back quickly, resenting his lack of question mark.  

                Roxy: Now?

                His response arrived before she could slip back asleep, pushing white light through her eyelids.

                Dirk: _No._

                And then.

                Dirk: _It has to do with Jake.  And Jane._

                Roxy sighed, peeking her head out of the window of her counselor’s nook into the rest of the bunk.  Everyone was sleeping soundly; not a foot out of place, no smoke drifting from Damera’s bunk.

                Feeling her mind drift further and further from sleep, she wrote out another message and went to slip a pair of jeans and a jacket over her sleep shorts and shirt.

                Another flash of light from her phone.

                Dirk: _Meet me over by the beach._

Roxy: _Why not the mess hall this time?_

She stared at her phone for a minute, waiting for a response, but none came.  With a sigh, she tucked her phone in her jacket pocket and tip-toed into the cold.

 

                Despite his claim, Dirk was sitting on the grass outside of the beach when Roxy walked up to him, tearing the blades in half and leaving the remains in a pile in front of him.  The sun had yet to rise, but she could see an outline of a boy ahead of her.  He didn’t turn to look at her until she was standing behind him.

                “You owe me big time for this,” Roxy said, “so what did English do this time?  Or is it something you did to English?”

                Dirk stared at the grass he had cut, no longer adding to it but spreading it out with his fingers so blended in with the still living.

                “I swear, if you brought me this far just to brag,” Roxy said, “I will block your number until camp is over and then some.  It took me five minutes to walk here.  You know I’m slow when I’m tired.”

                “If you want to hear someone brag, ask Jane,” he said, staring at the ground.

                Roxy stared at him; hunched shoulders, grassy hair, his stupid shades pulled up to his hair like a hair band because he wouldn’t be able to see otherwise.  He looked as small as she’d ever seen him, except perhaps the few times he’d opened up to her.  Except this time he looked like someone had finally cut into the gooey parts, like a dissected frog.

                “Oh, baby.  It’s okay.  What happened?”

                “I caught them making it in the kitchen.  Jane frosted him and accosted him.”

                Roxy cringed at the word ‘frosted,’ wondering if she should avoid the kitchen deserts.  “What happened exactly?” she repeated, sitting down next to him in the grass, a hand on his knee.

                Dirk took a deep breath.  “Apparently Jane had Jake help her mop up the kitchen in private, and then turned the tables and seduced him with her sugary wiles.  I was looking for him to ask him a question, and I saw her throw herself on him.”

                “Now stop that,” Roxy snapped, “I came here to help you, but I’m not going to let you talk about Jane like that.  She didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done.”

                “I wouldn’t have been so obvious.”

                “Oh really?  What did you want to ask Jake about again?”

                They stared each other down, meaning they stared vaguely at each other’s silhouette unmoving.

                Roxy sighed.  “Even now, I can’t see your eyes.”

                “A boys got to have some secrets.”

                “Pity,” she said, “so what’s the next move?”

                “There is no next move.  I lost.  Jane won.  Game over.”

                Roxy stood up, rubbing her hands together for warmth and tucking them in her elbows.  “Is that all this was to you?  A game?  Did you want to date him or pick him off the top shelf of a carnival booth?”

                “What’s your point?”

                “My point?  What did you want?”

                Dirk kicked the ground, digging a hole with the sole of his shoe.  “I wanted to date him.  Watch a movie.  Hold his hand.  Talk with him until I stop sounding like an idiot.  Metal stuff, like that.”

                “Then what?  We hold hands. We watch movies.  We talk.  What’s stopping you now?  Jane?”

                “Yes!  She got to kiss him.”

                “Bullshit,” she said, like a shot, “Listen, if all you wanted to do was be the first to mack on him, then yes, you have probably lost.  Boo hoo.  But you actually wanted to date him because you liked spending time with him, because you liked knowing him, then get over yourself and be his fucking friend.  And if you want more, tell him instead of dodging around him.”

                His hole dug, Dirk stared at the collected dirt on his shoe, and scrapped it off with the edge of his other shoe.  He tried to think of anything else: the smear of mud on his heel, the cold pressing on his skin, the rush of waves breaking ahead of him.  Anything except the idea of seeing _them_ for the rest of the summer.

                “Hey,” Roxy interrupted, “You may not get everything, but at least you get to know him.”

                “Yeah, well you’re inspiring speech aside, that doesn’t feel very promising at the moment.”

                “I know,” she said, “Trust me.  I know about liking people who don’t like me back.”

                It was like he had heard someone slip and fall; his head whipped in her direction before he could realize what was happening.  She was watching him still, based on the direction of her silhouette, and then she turned away and watched the ocean. 

                They sat in silence for a while, Dirk scooting closer until their sides touched and he could rest his head on her shoulder.

                “Watch the glasses.”

                “Oops,” Dirk said, pulling the shades off his head and tucking them into his shirt.

                “I’d prefer not to go blind until fall,” Roxy said, a slight joking tone peeking through.

                Dirk put his head back on her shoulder, patting her on the back.  “I’m sorry.  About what I said about Jane.”

                “Do twenty Hail Mary’s over her mystery casserole and you’ll be absolved.”

                “Will do.”

                “Good.”

                Roxy lay on her back and so Dirk did as well, pulling his shades out of his shirt collar and setting them aside so Roxy could move her head onto his chest.

                After a while, he spoke again, his voice buzzing through her ears.  “Didn’t I ask you to help me?”

                “Tough love, man,” she mumbled, “That’s how it goes.”

                “Maybe.” He thought about his words, before saying them, weighing which ones made him heaviest before letting them settle on his mind, listening to time pass audibly in the night.  “You’re right though.  But I don’t want to see him.  Not yet…”

                Dirk listened, waiting for a nod.  “Roxy?”

                Lifting one of her curls, he looked at her face, completely still and quiet and sighed.  He stood up slowly, careful not to wake her as he set her head on the grass and slipped his glasses into his pocket.   He picked Roxy up, cradling her head in his elbow and her knees over his forearm, and carried her up the path and into the camp.  When he got to the door, he squatted down to turn the knob with his left hand, and set her in her bed as quietly as he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JUST made it in the deadline. Sorry for such a late update. I hope everyone had a great Valentines Day because Dirk sure didn't :D


	10. Simultaneously

                Mituna peered over his pillow with one eye as the door to the cabin closed.  He counted to ten and then kicked his blankets aside and shook Kuloz’s bunk above him by kicking the mattress through gaps in bed frame.  “He’s go-one!”

                He kicked harder, lifting the mattresses up a few inches and then dropping it again.  “Wake up!  Say something if you’re alive.”

                Kurloz stuck one of his long arms over the side of the bed, with his middle finger hanging from his fist like some exotic “Fuck You” fruit from an elusive Amazonian tree.

                Mituna jumped over the side of his bed and pulled on Kurloz’s arm.  “Come on, let’s go,” and then he was gone, rushing out the door.  Kurloz, unmoved, pulled his arm back and chose to walk down the ladder.  He followed his friend out the door where Mituna was waiting for his piggyback ride. 

                The rest of the cabin turned over in their beds or let out a sigh of relief before going back to sleep.

\------------------------------

                There was a field in the camp where people played Soccer or Football or Baseball (the counselors would have to draw out a quick diamond from chalk for that) or whatever other camp specific games they had taught the counselors in training that required open space.  They had to cut away part of the woods to make it, so at one edge there was a grove of trees, just enough that kids would draw straws if they lost a ball there.

                The girls were sitting near that edge, lighting a cherry scented candle they had smuggled out of Roxy’s luggage.

                Kurloz carried Mituna until the girls were in sight, when Mituna jumped down and sprinted the rest of the way.

                “Did you bring it?” he demanded.

                “Hey there Kurloz,” Meulin said affectionately.  Kurloz waved back, smiling.

                “Did you bring it?!” Mituna repeated.

                “Calm down,” Porrim answered, coolly.  From behind Damara, she pulled a tan game board and set it down in front of their candle in the grass.  The board was aged, with brown , thick font spelling out the alphabet, numbers, and Yes, No, or Goodbye.  In the high corner was a demonic looking sun and moon, staring down at the intricate font curiously.

                “Hey, what’s SHE doing here,” he said, pointing at Damara, who was sitting idly with her fingers passing back and forth a few inches above the candle flame.  Like the boys and unlike Porrim and Meulin, Damara had failed to bring a coat.  But unlike the boys, she was dressed in her usual clothes, instead of their pajamas.

                “Who do you think was the one to GET us the board, Mituna,” Porrim said.  She reached behind again and found a large, wooden triangle with a glass circle at its center to tell people what to look at, and set it on the board before mumbling some protective chants she had found the on internet.

                “What do you want to ask first,” Meulin asked the group.  She and Kurloz had taken seats next to each other, with Mituna yet to sit but pacing at Kurloz’s other side.

                “We could ask the Ultimate question of the Universe,” Porrim suggested, “What Kurloz’s voice sounds like?”

                “Hey,” Mituna snapped, “If my buddy doesn’t want to talk he doesn’t talk.”

                Porrim raised her hands in immediate surrender.  “He doesn’t have to.  The board can tell us what it sounds like.”

                “The only reason he doesn’t talk anyways,” Mituna continued, “is because his voice is so fucking masculine that you’d all go through Puberty so fast, beards would burst out of your chests like that Alien movies.  Do you want that to happen?  Huh?”

                “Clearly not.”

                “You don’t?” Meulin asked.

                “Kurlos already whispers to me sometimes,” he said, sitting down, “That’s why I’m so mature.”

                Kurloz nodded sentimentally.

                “Fine, what should we ask it then?” Porrim said.

                “How about what ranky marker brand you uses to draw those marks on your arms?”

                “Why,” Porrim snapped, “when I can answer that for you.”

                “Aw yeah?  What is it?”

                “Your mother’s menstrual blood.”

                Mituna recoiled in horror that quickly and seamlessly dissolved into laughter.  When he was right side up again, he put a hand on the cursor.  Damara slapped his hand, forcing him to draw it back again.  “Ow.”

                Sighing in a long breath, she picked up the curser and waved it towards the group disparagingly.  She was an exchange student, and her English still came through a think Japanese accent.  “You don’t ask questions of yourself.  You ask the spirit.  Are you there?  How did you die?”  Setting the cursor back on the board, she gently laid the tips of both her hands on one end and waited with her eyes closed.

                The rest of the kids looked amongst each other before slowly putting their fingers on the curser as well.

                “Keep your fingers light.  Spirits touch with a gentle hand.  Weight the board down and they won’t work.”  She exhaled slowly again and then spoke louder “Is anyone there?”

                There was silence as everyone watched the board except for Damara, who kept her eyes closed like a true medium.  Slowly, the curser began to move, at first aimlessly towards the side but then curving up into the corner, right above the word “Yes.”

                The group gasped, and Damara opened a single eye to read the results before confidently nodded.  “Tell us spirit.  How did you die?”

                The curser moved again, faster this time, in a straight line across the board.  “No.”

                “What does that mean?” Porrim whispered.  Mituna raised his hand to scratch his head.

                Damara’s eyes shot open and yelled “NO.”  Mituna’s hand snapped back onto the curser.  “If you if you leave holes where hands should be, the spirit could escape.”

                The group looked a Mituna who shrunk down into his spot.  Damara, calming down, closed her eyes again.  “What do you mean?  Are you dead?”

                The curser made a small circle, stopping exactly where it had been before.  “No.”

                “Hey, buddy,” Mituna whispered to Kurloz, “Are you the one moving this?”

                Kurloz shook his head, before nodding towards Porrim.  Porrim shook her head even faster.  “I thought it was Mituna.”  Nearby, Meulin stared at the board with slack jawed awe and fear.

                “What are you spirit?” Damara asked, even louder.

                The curser moved away from the words now, and descended into the Alphabet with curving and twisting through the letters until it rested upon its favorites.  Meulin repeated the letters that rested within the glass circle, as though in a trance.  “H…E…R…E.”

                “Here?” Porrim whispered, looking around.

                “What manner of Spirit are you?” Damara asked.  The curser was moving faster now, even before she had finished her question. 

                “H…U…N…G…R… Oh Kurloz, I don’t want to do this anymore.”

                From behind they heard a terrible scream and all at once the kids flinched, knocking the curser off the board and a few feet away. 

                They stopped, each taking a moment to look at the others and then all at once before scrambling to their feet before racing to their cabins screaming.

                Damara, still sitting in front of the board, blew out the candle.

                “You come out again.”

                The leaves behind her rustled as someone walked stiffly through the bushes.  An older girl remarkably like Damara in a brown fedora and an old, thrift store skirt strode out and dusted the leaves that had collected while she was waiting in the brush off her clothes.

                She held her hand out.  “My board, please.”

                Damara had quickly packed the board and curser inside its box, which she now handed over.  The older girl held out her other hand, and Damara shook it.

                “Pleasure working with you.”

                “The same.”

              

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comic Relief :D  
> ...  
> :D Anybody?


	11. After Some Rest

                “My hands aren’t sticky anymore!” Mituna announced as he and Kurloz appeared from the cabin bathroom.

                “Good,” Dirk said, “and what did I have you swear to do?”

                “To never speak of this again.”

                “Especially if…?”

                “If anyone notices it missing from the kitchen,” Mituna finished.

                “Good boy,” Dirk said, ruffling Mituna’s hair.  He turned around to face the rest of his campers huddled on their beds, “Now we can go to dinner.  March out soldiers.”

                One by one, they leapt to their feet and rushed the door.  “Rufioh, hold back,” Dirk added.  Rufioh spun around in the doorframe, forcing Cronus to squeeze past him.  “I got a job for you.”

                “What do you need?” he asked.

                “I need you to grab me a plate of food from the kitchen.  Like a chicken breast and an apple or whatever else they’re selling.  Anything.  Just not a bagel cause I’m watching my wheat intake.  Gluten and… all that.”

                Rufioh rocked back and forth on his heels, watching his friends run to the mess hall.  “Why can’t you get your own food?”

                “Because I have busy adult counselor stuff to deal with that’s why.”      

                “Fine, but can you tell me what your business is in case anyone asks why I have two plates.”

                “Who do you think is going to ask?  The K.G.B?  Kitchen… G.B.  Seriously, no one will ask.  Grab three plates if you want.”

                “Fine.  Fine,” Rufioh said and Dirk pushed him out the door, letting Rufioh run ahead.  Once he saw Rufioh safely in line for the kitchen, he walked around to the back entrance and went inside the Mess Hall.

                Across the way, Roxy saw another counselor sitting alone and walked over, her plate in hand.  “Hey there.  What’s up with you?”

                “Not much.”

                “Going on a hunger strike or something?”

                “Yeah,” Dirk said, “we’re protesting the occupation of Tibet by Skrillex.  Wanna join?”

                Roxy peeled another piece of chicken from the bone and made a show of putting it in her mouth with her head titled back.  “Too late.”

                “History will not remember you fondly for this.”

                “Yeah, but Herstory will remember me just fine.” Dirk tilted his head in confusion.  “Porrim taught that word to me,” she added, “thanks for carrying me back to my room, btw.”

                Dirk shrugged.  “I brought you out there.  I should take you home.”

                “I guess that’s right.  So I guess you probably don’t want me to share my lunch with you.”

                “Nah.  Tibet, remember.”

                “Right,” she gestured to the empty table, “are your kids on strike as well?”

                “They’re not as politically conscious as I am Roxy.  They’re young.  They’re growing.  They’re in line for food.  Why?  Where are your kids?”

                “They’re still on a hike with Jake,” Roxy said, “or are we still calling him Tibet?”

                Dirk stared at Roxy through his shades; the sympathy behind her smirk.

                “You can’t avoid Skrillex forever?” she said.

                “Why?  He doesn’t get that much airplay on my radio stations.”

                “You know what I mean.”  She glanced towards the doors of the kitchen as Dirk’s campers filed through, Rufioh dutifully carrying a plate in each hand and guiding the significantly taller Head Chef to their table.

                “Apparently,” Roxy said, “you can’t even hide from Skrillex for a day.”  And then she spun around and walked back to her empty table, leaving Dirk to stare like an ice statue as campers sat around him.

                Rufioh set his plates down with a resounding clink.  “This lady wanted to talk to you.  Are you done with your counselor business yet?”

                “Hello there Dirk,” Jane said, her hands in the pockets of her apron.  She had a fifties air about her, like she spent her weekends wearing polka dot dresses, leafing through cookbooks and dusting, but her clothes were more realistically stained.

                “Hey.”

                “Do you two know each other?” Rufioh asked between bites of a chicken nugget, “You know, besides?”

                “Kids, go invade Roxy’s table for a bit,” Dirk said, and the kids dutifully stood up and walked across the way to Roxy, who quickly tucked her phone back into her bra.

                Jane inhaled like she was about to say something until it got caught up as the kids stood up.  Afterwards she exhaled and tried again.  “You didn’t have to send them away sweetie.  I wasn’t going to be long.”

                “Oh,” Dirk said.  He looked down at the tile beneath their feet.

                “Is something wrong?” she asked.

                “Nope.  Everything’s one hundred percent right.  If this were the SAT’s, I’d be set for life.  Get an advanced admission to Harvard and a cake like that kid from ‘The Perfect Score,’ except I’d have actually earned it so instead of eating it I’d turn it into a sugar frosted nuclear reactor or something.  Why?”

                Jane chuckled and shrugged.  “No reason.  You just sent a kid over to get your food instead of getting anything yourself.”

                “Oh that’s nothing.  I was just busy cleaning off the table.  John and Dave were on that duty last night, but I’m pretty sure Dave has a cold because there was some giant wad of snot right on the end there.  That or his cum comes out yellowish.”

                “Dirk!” Jane yelled, wide eyed, and then whispered “a little quieter in front of the kids.”

                “Right.  Shit.  Right.  What’s the G-rated term for that?  I don’t want anything food related for obvious reasons…”

                Jane knocked him lightly in the arm, but her sternness dissolved fairly quickly in a smile.  In doing so though, she finally brought her hands out from her apron.  There was a makeshift DVD case with his handwriting across the cover; the Cat’s Return.

                “Did you lose this?” she asked, waving it in front of her, “I found it outside while closing up shop last night.  It has your name on the inside.”

                “Oh yeah,” Dirk said, taking it from her cautiously, “thanks.”

                “I hope you don’t mind, but I watched it this morning.”

                “Really?” Dirk asked, surprised, “did you like it?”

                “Oh, completely.   Maybe it’s just Roxy rubbing off on me, but I’ve had a thing for cat movies recently… just think of it as saving us the trouble of asking to borrowing it later.”

                “Oh yeah… completely,” Dirk stumbled.

                Jane waited for Dirk to continue the conversation, but he just stood there.  She looked down at the table where Rufioh had left his second plate for Dirk.  “I’m going to fetch you a plate from the Counselors bar,” she said, suddenly being surged with motherly affection, “there’s nothing wrong that stuff, but the meat for the councilors wasn’t flash frozen.  Take what you can.”  And she ducked off back the kitchen, the bow of her apron swaying as she walked.

                Dirk looked back mash of chicken on the plate Rufioh had left behind and sighed.   In the corner of his eye he could see Roxy making a few hand signals he somehow understood to mean ‘aren’t you glad I stopped you from insulting her last night when you were angry and tired?’ 

                But in a smug way.

                Through the glass doors Dirk saw Roxy’s campers running towards them from the trails, so he picked up his plate and walked over to her table to fetch his campers.  He tried to resist smiling but found it happening anyways when he told his campers to head back.  It wasn’t that he was happy, but the same way you’re halfway to saying ‘okay’ every time you sigh, he couldn’t help but react.  He wasn’t happy, but suddenly he was a little less sharp.

                As Dirk spilled his food into an appreciative Mituna’s plate, two of Roxy’s campers burst through the door.

                “Roxy!” Meulin yelled as they burst through the door, and they both scrambled. Kurloz ran to her side as she yelled at Roxy.  “Roxy!  Jake’s in trouble!”

                “What?”

                “The Hiking guy,” the other girl explained.  Dirk recognized her as the tomboyish girl who hung around Mituna during break times.  “He fell down a rock thing on our hike thing and I think he broke a leg.”

                “We don’t have 911 here, do we?  He’s going to die!” Meulin yelped.  She was trying to stare at everyone at once but not reading anyone’s lips correctly.

                “Both of you relax,” Roxy said, getting down on one knee with a hand on each of their shoulders, making sure that Meulin kept her eye on Roxy’s face.  “No one’s going to die.  You need to explain what happened though, okay?  Latula?”

                The second girl, Latula, was out of breath, having run all that way, but it was only catching up with her now.  Meulin didn’t seem to have noticed the running at all.

                Latula took a quick, deep breath like a sonic boom, and started speaking.  “What happened,” she said, “is the guy was trying to show us this… cavern thingy, but the only way in apparently was between these rocks at the top.  So he set up a ladder but it broke when he was going down so he fell all the way down.”

                “Is he hurt?” Roxy asked.  There were more campers coming down the hill, and she had one eye on them and the rest of her attention at work checking off all the emergency boxes in her mind.

                “Probably.  He told us to go get help.”

                “I didn’t look through the hole because I didn’t want to see any blood,” Meulin added.

                Dirk’s heart was racing but he couldn’t feel any blood moving in his body.  It had all disappeared, leaving behind an empty shell.  But he knew where it had gone.

                “Where did this happen?” he asked.  The girls weren’t paying attention at first so he got down like Roxy and said it again, stronger.  “Where did this happen?”

                “In the rock patch behind the volleyball courts.”

                “How long ago?”

                “I don’t know,” Latula said, and then added, “we ran here.”

                Dirk thought for a minute as Roxy stood up to ask the other campers questions.  He didn’t know how fast kids could be (he had been surprised in the past few days) but it couldn’t be fast enough.  If something had happened, too much time had probably passed already.

                He spun around, realizing just how many people were staring at their commotion and ran for the door, passing Roxy and her girls.  Once he got outside, he started running, not for the courts but for something else.  Something closer.  Something faster.


	12. In No Time

                Once the door was behind him, he was running.  There was a curving road leading from where he was to where he wanted to go, but he ignored it and ran in as straight a line as possible, jumping over fences he could make and running around bushes he didn’t want to try; over the bumps and embankments and through the grass and dirt and leaves because those few minutes he could save mattered.

                By the time he was at the stables he was too out of breath to hop over the fence, so he walked over the chest they kept saddles in and wrapped two things of rope over his shoulder as well as sticking a first aid kit in a shoulder bag.  Then he ran to the gate and called over his favorite horse: James ‘Vaga’ Bond, the tan, lean one that always smelled like wet sand.

                He climbed up the first few logs of the fence and kicked the latch off with his foot as he jumped on Vagabond’s back, kicking him in the side in one movement and sending them racing through the gate and up towards the rocks.

                He swerved off to the side, one hand on the saddle and the other holding the rope over his shoulder in place.  Vagabond wasn’t goat enough to handle the rocky parts, but there was a pathway they could take up the side that would get them close.

                It was cold enough for the air to have teeth, and galloping was inviting it to bite.  He leaned forward like he was dodging sticks and branches and monstrous beasts, like a knight from old stories in a tattered camp t-shirt and cargo pants.

                The path kept getting longer and longer, farther than any of the kids should have been able to run from.  Or else the adrenaline in his blood was stretching time like a rubber band in a slingshot.  When he finally saw a pack of bags on the rocks ahead, the band snapped.

                He pulled the reigns too quickly and came to an immediate stop, before trotting to a nearby tree.  Sliding off, he tied Vagabond to the tree with a crappy granny knot and ran off without a second pat on his head.

                “Jake!”

                He looked in the hole, but couldn’t see anything below except a pile of rocks.  The crunch of rocks shifting echoed from the mouth of the cave.  Had there been a rockslide?

                In his rush he couldn’t remember what the girls had said.  Had he fallen in?  Had the ground broken beneath him?

                Most importantly, where was he?  Had Jake tried to move further in to look for an exit or gold or gems or grist?

                He tried to keep the idea of bloody rocks out his mind: bloody rocks slow twitching from the bottom of the pile as someone reached out from beneath them, covered in dust so thoughoughly he moved like liquid stone.

                “Jake!” he yelled again, louder.

                He waited quietly from a minute, until another voice echoed back “Yes?” 

                He sounded swallowed up by the cave and digested.  He sounded like an echo.  But Jake kept repeating himself “Yes?  Yes!” each time slightly louder and clearer than before.  Finally, Jake peeked his head from under the natural manhole and smiled upwards, squinty eyed.  He did look dusty, but less so than the horrors of Dirks mind had imagined.  Like the dwarves from Snow White, or a golden retriever after a quick dig.  There was dirt on his legs and his shirt was torn where the rocks had grabbed it as he fell.

                Dirk felt a knot in his stomach dislodge, climb up his chest and into his throat.  “You’re alright!”

                “Well of course I’m alright chap.  Are the girls with you?”

                “Girls?” Dirk thought, immediately thinking of Jane.  ‘No,’ he reminded himself, mentally snapping against his instinct, ‘No anger.  No jealousy.’

                “Yes, Roxy’s campers,” Jake said, “They all ran off to get help, last I checked.  Are they with you?”

                “Oh, no.  They’re back at camp, I think.”

                “All of them?”

                “I think.  I only talked to two of them but the others were on their way.”

                “Darn my socks,” Jake exclaimed, “I had hoped only a pair of them should run off to get help, and the rest could stay here where I can keep an eye or two on them.   But they all scampered off in the panic!”

                Dirk nodded.  “Well don’t worry.  We’ll get you into camp and we’ll get an ambulance here as soon as we can, man.”

                Jake chuckled.  “I’m not hurt chap.  Are you sure you know what’s been going on here?”

                Dirk stared into the hole.  With his glasses on, the ground was a lot darker than it should have been in this light, but even he could tell not that Jake was actually standing.  That, and the floor was no further than seven feet down.

                “Shoot,” Dirk said.

                Jake chuckled again.  “I set up a ladder against that rock there, but it got dislodged and I stumbled down.”

                “… so no injuries?”

                “None.  I’d be out of a job if I did, wouldn’t I?”

                “Didn’t expect you to have planned it,” Dirk pestered.  And the lump in his throat dissolved and turned into a haze in his mind as he went from relieved to embarrassed, and he stuck the rope behind his back like they were flowers stuffed inside his grandmothers engagement ring with a note that says ‘Happy First Date – I love you.’

                “Sorry to rush in then.”

                “Wait,” Jake called, “aren’t you going to help me?”

                “Oh… right… how exactly do you want me to go out about that?”

                “Well, first thing first, I would appreciate if you would dangle that lifeline down here for me and help me resituate the ladder.”

                “Gotcha.”  He quickly pulled the rope from behind his back and let one end of it down to Jake, who tied it around the ladder he had tucked away in the corner.

                “Now Dirk, just pull the rope up and stick the ladder back into the ground.  There should be a mallet around there for you to drive the stakes with.”

                Dirk nodded and stepped away to pull the rope.   When the ladder was pulled over the edge, he examined it.  It looked like your standard emergency ladder, except instead of a rack at the top there were five different long metal stakes you could drive into the ground for support.  He laid it down where he didn’t think it would fall again and looked around for the mallet, which one of the girls had left by the tree.  When he came back, he pulled the ladder further up where the ground seemed stronger and hammered the stakes as far into the ground as they would go.

                After a few test tugs, he called back “Okay Jake.  It’s ready for you.”

                “Good show,” Jake called back.  The ladder suddenly went taut as it supported the weight of a person and Dirk stepped on one of the stakes to make sure it wouldn’t slip anymore.  After a minute, Jake’s head slipped over the edge, then his chest, and then he pulled himself up over the edge and sat down with his legs over the side.

                Dirk stepped off the stake and walked over to his side.

                “Shame the expedition was cute short,” Jake lamented, “the girls would have loved it.”

                “What’s so special about it?” Dirk asked.  Jake looked up at him and smiled again, like flower buds opening in the morning.

                “Go down and see for yourself.”

                Dirk cast a suspicious glare at the ladder and knelt down to test it a few times.  “It’s all right Dirk,” Jake said, “I’ll keep an eye on it.”

                Something fluttered in Dirk chest.  Jake slid over so he wasn’t laying on the ladder anymore and Dirk started down.  He was taller than Jake, which meant the already short trip was even quicker for him.  When he hit the bottom, he was still eye level with Jakes dangling feet.

                From above he could only see down the hole but from the floor he could see down the hallway.  It wasn’t as deep as he imagined, only far enough for a small group to walk down single file.  Nothing suitable for a Lifetime movie club meeting place or a wine cellar or indoor/outdoor sex.  But the walls were also cut from white marble and nearly smooth, except for the ceiling which had small glittering stones hanging like fairy lights.  His eyes hadn’t even needed to adjust when he came down here, although he did have to lift his sunglasses up.  The light from above bounced around so well that most of the room was visible even at this hour.

                “I suspect the place was eroded by rainwater, which is why the floors are so smooth and the roof so rough,” Jake said from above, answering questions Dirk hadn’t asked.  It was amazing, but he grew tired of staring quickly and started climbing up the ladder again.  From the corner of his eye, he saw Jake massaging his ankle.  There were red marks along his leg where he had scraped it against the rocks, most of which were pink and swollen.

                “Are you sure you’re all right, man?”

                “Tip top,” Jake said, and then confessed, “twisted my ankle a bit when I tumbled, but it’s nothing I won’t be over in the morning.”

                Dirk nodded and without a word (from himself, at least) picked Jake up and carried him to the horse where he helped him onto the saddle, right behind where he would be sitting.

\------------------------------

 

                “Fuck Fuck Shit Crap Motherfucker Bitch Shit Fuck.”

                “God damn Bloody Hell Blimey Flibbergibbit.”

                Galloping had hurt Jake’s sprain, so the silence that followed Jake’s ridiculousness was filled only by Vagabond trotting down to the camp. 

“Are you serious?” Dirk asked.

                “Of course I am?  Or did I mess up somehow?  I thought I understood the rules of the game...”

                Dirk shook his head.  “Your spell book needs a few new curses.”

                Jake nodded, perplexed and quiet.  They turned a corner and the entered the camp grounds.  Dirk made a turn towards the nurse’s office.

                “So, I wanted to say I’m sorry,” Jake said.  Dirk stared ahead, but watched the distorted reflection in his shades as Jake’s arm rubbed behind his head while still clinging to the saddle.  “I know we were expected to spend some quality time together the other day, and I mucked it up with my tardiness.  You’ve been a great chap for not bringing it up, trying to let things be and all, but I wanted to say I was sorry.”

                Dirk waited in silence as Jake stared, at first ahead and then off to the side, until Dirk realized it was his turn to accept the apology.  “It’s cool man,” he finally managed to mumble, almost too quiet to hear over the wind.  But Jake heard nodded like he heard it.

                For a minute, the arm around his side got hotter.  Was Jake holding him tighter now, and was it on purpose or was he just afraid of falling again.  He took apart the letters of Jake’s apology and tried to stretch them to something different.  Something more concrete.

                And then he stopped.

                “Listen.  You don’t need to apologize.  You’re the last person who needs to apologize in fact, so I won’t hear it.  I stopped by the cabins after dark, and your poker buddies told me where you were.  No harm.  No foul.”

                “Ah, yes,” Jake said, “I suppose Ms. Crocker and I just lost track of time.”

                “Did you have fun?”

                “Oh, a right collection.”

                “Then that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”  Dirk pulled back on the reigns and the horse came to a stop outside of the nurse’s office.  Just as he was about to get off and help Jake to the ground, a crowd of people rushed out of the tent-like building and crowded them, and he had to focus on calming the horse while everyone else took Jake from the saddle.  In the doorway Jane was watching with a concerned stare while Roxy stood to the side, saying something to Latula that sounded like “he doesn’t look like he broke in half.”

                Once Jake was on the ground and walking inside with a human crutch at each side, a few people thanked Dirk for going out to help.  In the distance the Camp Director was screaming into a Walkie Talkie, saying something about the Jeep they sent out needing to turn around because Ennis Del Mar went rogue and already saved Indiana Jones, and how Jake was limping after being sodomized so thoroughly while the Jeep was taking it’s time getting to the emergency.

                Dirk watched everything in his periphery vision, focusing on Jake as he went through the door.  Roxy nodded at him and smiled weakly before urging her campers to say their condolences and then leave Jake to the nurse.

                With the people gone, the horse calmed down and paced in its spot with nervous energy.  Dirk turned around and walked it back to the enclosure, relishing every minute he could be so high above everything. 

                In the saddle he felt in control.  Whenever he caught himself remembering Jake’s hands on his waist, he could force himself to think about their game.  Whenever he tried to image Jake saying he cared about him, he remembered the time he really did call him his friend.

                He wouldn’t get everything, but he’d definitely get that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearing the end everyone. Only one more chapter and then the epilogue to go!  
> I'd just like to say thanks to anyone who checked in while this was still in progress :D


	13. Finally

                Dirk met Roxy at the beach after dinner while the kids attended their farewell bonfire, at the same place he was waiting for her the other night.

                “Hey there Dork.”

                “Sup Roxslide.”

                “I heard about what you did yesterday,” she said, knocking him in the shoulder and starting down the beach, “you do know grand theft equine is a crime, right?”

                “I had noble intentions.”

                “Uh huh,” she said, “the coast is clear, Dork.  Go.”

                Dirk thought hard back over the last few days and tried to remember the times he had bothered to temper his language.  “Shit. Shit.  Shit.  Fuck.  Shit.  CRAP.  Go the fuck to sleep.”

                “What are you, a Porta-Potty?”

                “What?”

                “Why is there so much shit?” she clarified.

                “Fiber.  Your turn.”

                Roxy hopped eagerly like a rabbit as she walked.  “Fuck Damn.  Damn Fuck.  Shit.  Crap.  Tits.”

                “… I don’t want to know why.”

                “Smart boy.”

                “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Dirk interjected, “I played the swear word game with Jake.  Do you mind?”

                “Nah, it’s fine.  I fucked your dad.”

                “Sweet.”

                She jogged a short ways ahead and then spun around, making a show out of bowing dramatically while Dirk clapped.  “Anyways,” she said, “you haven’t asked me who I heard about your heroics from.”

                “If it was Rose, I don’t want to hear any of her ‘theories.’”

                “Nah.  Try again.”

                Dirk looked at her again.  Would she have actually talked to Jake about it?  “Fine.  Who?”

                “Jane,” she said, smirking with pride.  “I’m so proud of you.”

                Dirk sighed and shrugged.  “She’s my friend too.  I was never going to stay mad at her for long.”

                They had been walking for a while without Dirk really noticing where they were going.  It was nice to get a change of scenery after going through the motions with his campers all day, escorting them from the cabin to the mess hall to their activities to the mess hall to their cabin.

                “I’m moving on Roxy,” he said, “I swear.”

                “Good.  Good.  Maybe move on a little bit further at least.  We’re not there yet.”

                Dirk slowed down for a second, watching Roxy’s back as she continued to lead him towards the boathouse directly in front of them, until she took off in a run and he chased her.

                She stopped right outside of the building’s door.  “Keep up Dirk,” she said once she had caught her breath, and then she opened the door.  Dirk walked inside and she shut it behind him without entering herself.

                The Boathouse had been decorated with dozens and dozens of candles so every corner flickered and glowed with the reflection of the water lapping at the docks.  Dirk stumbled around until an ambiguously accented voice set him straight.

                “Mr. Strider, is that you?”

\------------------------------

 

                Calliope stepped meekly from her hiding place in a sandy pantsuit.  “Is he inside?  Did it work?”

                “He’s inside all right.  Whether it works after this is up to him,” Roxy said.  With a tired smile, she walked over, took Calliope’s hand into her own and began walking the short path back to the camp.  “I’ve done all I can for him.  Now he has to take his tool into his own hands.”

                “So shall we wait before we decide if Operation Gay Cowboys is a success or a failure.”

                “Negatory,” Roxy slurred, “Our end of the business was def a success.  We rock.”

                Calliope took her hand from Roxy’s and rubbed the sweat on her jacket.  “I will admit, I did find this quite exhilarating.”

                “See, I told you it would be fun.”

                “Perhaps it wouldn’t be uncouth of us to meddle again.  This time perhaps on a more personal level?” Calliope suggested.

                “Meaning?”

                “Anyone you have your sights set on, Roxy?” she asked.

                Roxy took Calliope’s hand again, lacing her fingers between hers and curling them together like a fist.  She leaned forward and kissed her cheek, leaving a faint outline of red lipstick on her cheek.  When Calliope felt her cheek afterwards, she smuggled it into a blush. 

                Roxy smirked.  “First, let’s celebrate.”

                And the two of them took off running towards the camp offices like children.

\------------------------------

 

                “Well, I do think we’ve both been bamboozled, wouldn’t you say,” Jake said, standing up from his seat in the corner.

                _I’m going to kill her,_ Dirk thought, as Jake milled about the boathouse.  He bent down to dip a hand in the water and then shook it dry again.

                “Quite the setting they’ve crafted here,” Jake mumbled.

                Dirk nodded, secretly trying to erase his thoughts like an etch-a-sketch.  “Did Roxy bring you here?”

                “No, Mrs. Opheee asked me to join her here twenty minutes ago and never showed.”

                “Of course she did,” Dirk said, making a mental note to remember who Roxy’s other partner in crime was.  He watched Jake sit down on the dock and take off his shoes and socks.

                The dork actually rolled his socks down his leg into a doughnut shape before he stuffed them in his shoes, which seemed so natural and swift in his hands that it had to be a habit of his and the sight pulled Dirk’s chest like a leash around his heart that pulled him along the pier until he was sitting next to him.

                Jake sighed as he put his feet in the water.  “We’ll if that isn’t as refreshing as an April shower.”  He looked over at Dirk and smiled, which caused another pull; this time one that Dirk refused to obey.  “Are you going to join me?”

                “Nah,” Dirk said, shaking his head and watching the water, “I’m pale enough that if I stick a leg in there I’ll bioluminesce.  Start a cult for the fish.”

                “Uh-uh,” Jake shook his head sternly, reaching forward to splash some water onto Dirk’s jeans, “I won’t hear it.  That is a deplorable defense and I won’t have you smooth talk your way out of relaxing with me in this port.”

                Dirk laughed nervously, but Jake stared at him sternly.  “You’re serious aren’t you?” Dirk said.

                “As a pumpkin in a pie.”

                Dirk scoffed with mock horror but sat down next to Jake and took off his sock.  He wasn’t lying.  Under his sock, his already pale skin looked bleached.  When he dipped his into the water, he could see his own foot perfectly in the dark blue water that Jake’s seemed to disappear inside of.

                The water was relaxing, except for the first moment he dipped his toes in when he felt ice shoot through his nerves.  But he adjusted quickly to the cool feeling and the tiny waves rocking up against his shin.

                “So how did you like Camp?” Dirk asked.

                “Oh, it was a right pleasure through and through.  I’ll miss these kids when they’re sent off.”

                “Yeah, you do,” Dirk said, thinking about his cabin, “but they’re replaced pretty quickly.  You don’t get much time to think about it until you’re neck deep in toddler drama again.”

                Jake chuckled.  “You’re an entertaining fellow, Mr. Strider.”

                Jake was paddling his feet through the water in place, which somehow made him seem even more puppy-like and adorable than he seemed when Dirk first met him, even though the exact posture was probably impossible for a real dog.  Maybe one of those anthropomorphic ones he caught Jade looking at on her phone.  

                “You haven’t been to TentSet before, right?” Dirk asked.

                Jake shook his head.  “Unfortunately not.”

                “That figures.  Roxy and I went every summer when we were kids.  I figured I would have run into you once at least.”  Dirk felt his cell phone vibrate once in his pocket, but he ignored it.

                “I did attend a different summer camp a few times as a young chap, but they closed.  Best summers of my life.”

                “Really?  What was so great about it?”

                “The other children,” Jake said without hesitation, “I was home schooled most of my life, so the chance to be surrounded by potential chaps was a blessing.”

                “Sounds rough,” Dirk said.

                “No really.  My grandmother was an angel, and we lived in a fairly secluded area so neither of us had much choice in the matter.  And it did mean I had plenty of time and space for shenanigans.”

                “So did you just cram all your lovey dovey adolescent feelings into a couple hot summer weeks?”

                “Excuse me?”

                “You know?” Dirk said, “You look like the kind of guy who starts summer flings like a catapult.”

                “That makes even less sense.”

                “Romance Jake.  Did you have a lot of Camp Romance?” Dirk clarified, very aware of the candle light all over again.  His phone vibrated for the second time.  

                “Oh.  No.  Unfortunately not,” Jake said.

                “Are you serious?  Did you go to a camp for the blind.  Are those glasses a stronger prescription than I thought?”

                “Not that I know of,” Jake said, looking away.  He touched the frame of his glasses compulsively, “Although I’m sure the spectacles had something to do with it.”

                Dirk’s phone vibrated again, and he spoke over it while finally reaching into his pocket.  “Couldn’t be.  They only make you look better.  Makes you look even more sophisticated than your grandpa vocabulary does.”

                “Oh, this isn’t the pair I had as a child.  I had a bigger set when I was younger.  And thicker too, after Grandma got tired of replacing them every time I fell and knocked them from my noggin’.”  He was still looking away from Dirk, but Dirk could see the faintest rosy hue in the corner of his cheek.  Or was it the candlelight.

                “Sounds adorable to me.”

                Dirk unlocked his phone and checked his messages.  He had three new ones from Roxy:

                Roxy: _Assume and you make an ass out of you an me._

_Roxy: I talked to Jane.  She says nothing happened frosted or otherwise._

_Roxy: Also shes under the impression you and Jake hooked up int he shower._

                Dirk felt his hands go soft, and he had to catch himself before he dropped his phone into the water.  He stared at the other side of the boathouse and then at Jake’s feet in the water.

                This wasn’t a prank; it was a set up.  Roxy wasn’t a demon; she was a saint.  And most importantly, he still had a chance.

                “Well, I think it’s time we move along before Jane realizes her prankster potential and-”

                “Jake, I think you’re cute.”

                Jake chuckled.  “I know chap, you said as much a moment ago,” he joked, “Listen I know I sounded down on myself a moment ago but I promise you I don’t need any back patting.”

                “No, I mean.  Jake, I have a crush on you.”

                Dirk spat it out quickly because it was the shortest way of saying what he meant that he wouldn’t be able to back out of before he was off the momentum of Roxy’s texts.  Once he started, it was easier to keep going.

                “I like you,” he said, “A lot.  In the romantic sense.  I don’t want to ruin anything if you don’t feel the same, but if you’d like to, I’d like to be your first summer fling.  Or longer.  We don’t need to just fling.  I’m fully ready to soar if you think we’re working out and all,” and then, “oh god, I don’t even know if you’re like that.  Do you like guys?  I should have started with that, shouldn’t I?”

                There was a moment of silence when Dirk finally chewed on his tongue instead of hammering away at Jake’s eardrums.  Jake went back to staring at the water.

                “I don’t what to say Dirk,” Jake mumbled.

                Dirk felt his face drop and his lunch sink from his stomach to his shoes.

                _I fucked up.  I fucked up and he’s not going to want anything to do with me after this._

                “So are you thinking something casual or are you asking me to… go steady…”

                And wham, Dirk was back in the game like he his coach just tossed a bucket on him and threw him in the ring.

                “We can take it slow!” he yelled.  He coughed and then continued at a better volume.  “Anything.”

                “How would we go about this then?  I mean, we are a tad preoccupied for the summer.”

                “ **Anything**.  I will be completely Kindergarden with you if that’s what you want.  Spend recess together eating each other’s snacks and dominating the jungle gym.”  Mentally, Dirk prayed that Jake didn’t break up with him like Suzy Orego did when she found out Billy Cregor’s Dad gave him the Jumbo Animal Crackers.  “Plus, we do have a day off after the kids head home.  We could go for a hike or something.”

                The word “Hike” made Jake smile, and finally he looked away from the water.  Meekness looked good on him, the way a suit looks good on a surfer or board shorts look good on a CEO.  It was unusual.  It made him look three dimensional.  “Okay,” he said.

                “Are you serious?”

                “As I’ll ever be.”

                “One hundred percent?” Dirk clarified

                “Mathematically sound.”

                “Jake, Is it alright if I kiss you right now? To make sure this issue is settled.”

                “Golly.”

                “But is that a ‘yes’?!”

                Jake swallowed and nodded while closing his eyes.  Dirk didn’t wait any longer, and fell into him.

                Dirk was expecting lightning to spark between them when they touched but most of the electricity was in his own gut.  Instead, he felt a deaf quiet, like he was making noise but he couldn’t hear it himself.

                Jake felt dry and then wet and hard and then soft, and Dirk went from knowing which lips were his to forgetting why he was rushing in the first place.  It was like they were two pieces of wet clay being merged into one.

                When he pulled away, Jake looked delirious.

                “What?” Dirk asked.

                “Nothing,” Jake whispered, “It’s just… that was my first kiss.”

                Dirk grabbed Jake’s shoulder.  “Are you serious?”

                “Verily.”

                “No one’s macked on this five star cuisine?”

                Jake giggled.  “I was homeschooled, remember?”

                “That doesn’t change anything man.  You’re like those lost renaissance paintings they find in church basements. Everyone goes nuts when they reach the sunlight.”

                “Does that actually happen?” Jake asked.

                “I’m not a historian.  I’m just ironic.”

                They sat in silence for a moment, still close enough to breathe each other’s breath.

                Finally, Jake chuckled.  “I guess that means we’re pinned, Dirk Strider.”

                Dirk smiled.  “You didn’t call me ‘Mr.’  And you used my **first** name.”

                Jake shrugged.  “No use for formality now, is there?”

                “I guess not.”

 ------------------------------

                Dirk: _Congratulations._

                Roxy: _Congrats_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And in that moment, I swear Jake English had been completely oblivious of everyone's boners.
> 
> Sorry if there are any spelling/grammar errors. This is a LOT longer than the other updates, so I didn't get to put as much effort into editing it.  
> All that's left is the Epilogue now. :D


	14. Epilogue

                “Alright soldiers.  Line up,” Dirk barked.  The kids stumbled from their bunks like bugs and lined up in the middle of the room.  All around them, the chaotic mess of clothes and toys that had littered the floor for the week had been reabsorbed into the suitcases lying on their bunks.

                “I swear on my shades that I will deny saying any of this if any one of you repeats a word outside of this cabin, but it’s been a pleasure keeping you out of life threatening situations this week.”  Dirk scanned the room.  Their line had improved in the week, with a lot less shoving and whispering (no more than he would in their situation).  “So I’m going to give you some advice, as your wiser elder.”

                He turned to the far left where Rufioh was trying to ignore Horuss’ poking.  “Rufioh, you have the makings of a popular guy in you, kid.  Not quarterback popular, but the funny-somewhat-dorky-guy-who-gets-around popular, which is pretty much a hundred times better anyways after you graduate.  Just don’t spend so much time sitting in front of the internet that you don’t learn to stand up for yourself, got it?”

                Rufioh nodded and smiled, as Dirk turned to the next person.  “Horuss.  I want you to go home and google ‘self-confidence’ and ‘co-dependency’, because you’re better than that.  Got it?”

                Horuss nodded, slowly pulling his hand away from Rufioh. 

                “Good,” Dirk said, “but serious.  Write those words down on your luggage tags or something.   ‘Self-confidence’ and ‘co-dependency’.  And don’t just use Wikipedia or Merriam Webster.  I need you to read some excerpts from Chicken Soup for the Fifth Grade Reading level or whatever.  Something motivational.”

                Dirk turned again.  “Cronus.  Clean up your act and you’ll catch someone.  Got it buddy?”

                Cronus snapped his fingers and winked in response, but Dirk didn’t feel the need to get into why he shouldn’t have.

                “Kankri.  You are the smartest kid I have ever met.  And I’m not just saying that.  I had to buy a thesaurus because of you.  Just don’t use it for the wrong reasons, got it?”

                “Of course,” Kankri said, “although I would like to address the fact that my intelligence is more a result of my teaching, and despite my autodidacticism, is not the result of some problematic concept of genetic intelligence-”

                “That’s great Kankri,” Dirk said, “Kurloz.  You are a creepy guy.  You’re like the kids from the horror movies I refuse to rent.  If that’s what you’re going for, I just want to let you know that you hit the nail on the head and right into another dudes eye socket.  So way to go, I guess.”

                Half the line leaned over to watch Kurloz as he stared back blankly.

                “Still nothing?” Dirk said, “Okay man.  Whatever floats your boat.”

                At that, Kurloz smiled and gave a thumbs up which Dirk happily doubled.  With a dramatic twist Dirk turned to the Mituna, who was sitting cross legged next to Kurloz while everyone else stood.  “And you Scarecrow.  I think I’ll miss you most of all.”

                “Right back at ya dude,” Mituna yelled.

                “Stay safe you little shit,” Dirk said, “Now all of you.  Go get your stuff and head over to the bus.”

                The kids scattered over to their bunks and pulled their suitcases to the floor before scampering off through the door and down towards the road where the bus was waiting for them.  Dirk scanned the floor of the room, checked under the covers and in between the mattresses for anything they might have left behind before heading out to the door himself.

                As usual, his campers were one of the last to get there.  Most of the kids were already boarding or hurriedly adding phone numbers and email addresses into the phones they had finally gotten back from the office.  Roxy patted each of her kids on the back and hugged them goodbye before sending them onto the bus and laying their luggage in the compartment below.  There were staff there to do it for her, but she made an extra effort to be gentle with their bags.

                Dirk strolled up as she sent her last skipping camper on her way to ask her summer romance for his Facebook address.

                “Are you teary eyed?” Dirk asked.

                “They just… they grow up so fast,” Roxy said, wiping an imaginary tear from her cheek.  There was a certain sincere misty moistness to her eyes though.  “Did you give your farewell address for your cabin?”

                “I do no such thing,” Dirk said indignantly.

                “Uh huh.  Sure thing, Captain.”

                On the bus they both heard familiar voices scream in joy, and they had made a move to intervene before some Staff went onto the bus to calm everyone down.  The kids weren’t their responsibility anymore.

                “So, I guess I have something to thank you for.”

                “You don’t actually.  But I’ll accept any gratitude you send my way regardless,” Roxy said, “We’ll add it to your credit.”

                “Thank you.”

                “You’re welcome.  Have you already made plans with him for today?”

                “Yeah, we have,” Dirk apologized, “Sorry to leave you hanging.”

                “That wasn’t what I was getting at Dirk,” Roxy said, grinning.  “I’m happy for you.  Besides, I have my own plans.”

                It took Dirk a moment to understand.  “Wait?  Are you?  With who!”

                She tilted her head to the side, gesturing at the glowing woman in a pantsuit with a clipboard.

                “Nice,” Dirk said, “Does this mean you get a raise?”

                “It means I get a benefit package.”

                “Can I get one too?”

                “You’ll have to work that out with your superior,” Roxy said.

                When the last of the kids had piled on the bus, the driver gave a quick speech about the exits and the emergency break and then they were off, bouncing down the road to where their parents would be picking them up.

                The counselors dispersed, going their separate ways to enjoy their day off.  Roxy was the first to leave Dirk.  She and Calliope passed him with a grin as they headed towards the lounge.

                On his way back, Dirk saw Jake waiting with a backpack over his shoulders.  As he approached, Jake saw him and stood up, waving and smiling.

                And Dirk smiled too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :D
> 
> I have a shorter [Homestuck Story Here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/866259)  
> I have a longer [Homestuck Story Here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2731088)  
> And I have a [Welcome to Night Vale Script Here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1013674)
> 
> Leave a comment if you like it.  
> Kudos if you REALLY like it.
> 
> My Author Tumblr - phaserburn.tumblr.com


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